Wednesday, 25 October 2017

My Mother and My Children: Reflections of a Muslim Convert

"Ummi, Ummi…" My 7-year-old was tugging on
my skirt to get my attention. There was a

sense of urgency in his eyes.
"Ummi, please can't you tell Grandma to be a Muslim?"

I struggled to hold back my tears as I explained to my
son that Allah is the only one who

makes Muslims and that each of us should try
to talk to Grandma about Islam and make

dua that Allah would guide her
and open her heart to accept the truth.

From There to Here…

I was raised Catholic in a practising family, but
after accepting Islam nearly 25 years ago, I had already spoken much about
Islam to my mother. I had even had my hopes that she too would declare herself
a Muslim, when at one point she had said to me, "I can't bring myself to
say, 'Through Jesus Christ our Lord' at the end of my prayers anymore." How
my heart had danced when I heard those words!

But then my heart sank when she said a few weeks
later: "If I were to admit that Islam is the truth, then I would be saying
that my father and my grandmother are in hellfire." I was stunned. Stunned,
because whether or not her father and grandmother were in hellfire was not hinging
upon her renouncing the Catholic faith and declaring Islam to be true. Our belief
in or denial of something does not alter its reality, and that an intelligent
woman like my mother didn't get that left me speechless for a moment. I was
also amazed to realize that more than 1400 years after the revelation of the
Qur'an in the "uncivilized" society of Arab Bedouins to the Unlettered
Prophet (peace be upon him), an "educated" woman of "civilized,
modern" society was denying what her fitra told her to be true, and
her argument was no different than that of the people of the Prophets and
Messengers Nuh, Ibrahim, Muhammad, and so many others (peace be upon them all)
when they said: "Enough for us is that which we found our fathers
following" (Al-Maidah 5:104). SubhanAllah!

A year or so later, I married and left the United States
to join my husband. Two months later, 9/11 happened. The distance and the mainstream
news my mother was listening to made it increasingly difficult for me to give
her dawa. It tore at the heart for me to know the peace and perfection
of Islam and to see my mother – the dearest of people to me – living outside of
its guidance. I continued to pray for her.

Straight from the Mouth of Babes…

I had my first child (and all the others as well) far away
from my mother, and we used the internet to keep in touch and to attempt to
establish a relationship between grandmother and grandson. I remember one
particular Skype call when I had left my mother and son talking to each other;
I wasn't really paying attention to their conversation, but my heart fell to
the floor when I heard my three-year-old saying to my mother, "Why don't
you be a Muslim? You need to be a Muslim, so you don't go to hellfire!"

So, it was out.

The feelings and beliefs that my mother and I had -
ever so politely - left unspoken were given words. To believe, or rather to
know, that if your loved one does not accept Islam before death will damn them
for eternity is emotionally overwhelming. You live in hope for their guidance;
you make dua in every salat asking Allah to make them Muslim; you
comfort yourself with the knowledge that Allah is al-Adl (the Most Just)
and al-Hadi (the One Who Guides), but you never – at least I could never
– say to her that her abode would be hellfire if she didn't submit to her
Creator. Of course, I spoke in general about it (thus, her ultimate obstacle in
accepting the deen was accepting that her father and grandmother would
be in hellfire), but I never, ever said it so directly to my mother.

Returning to the Present…

Now again, 12 years after that first heart-wrenching
moment, my other son was pleading me to change his grandmother's belief and to
save her from eternal torment. As parents, we do our best to please our
children and to ease their worries, but this was out of my hands.

Alhumdulillah,I now have 6 children. The four eldest have seen my
mother twice (although the twins were only a year at the time and don't
remember the occasion). My fifth child has seen her once, and the youngest not
at all. Their relationship with her is restricted to communication via Skype
and the boxes of goodies and gifts that she has sent over the years. It's a
struggle.

My mother and my children long for the closeness that
seems so natural between grandparent and grandchild, but the great rift of opposing
beliefs is always there. It is rarely acknowledged by words, but it is undeniably
lurking in the shadows. When it begins to reveal itself, it stings the hearts
and the owners of those hearts quickly seek refuge in that space of – not
denial – but distance and suppression of thought.

Many a time, one of my children has, in conversation
with my mother, responded with "alhumdulillah," "in sha Allah,"
or an "assalamu alaikum" cut off midway when the realization
suddenly kicks in that it's not a Muslim on the other end. Immediately, the
self-conscious embarrassment sweeps across my child's face, and he or she will
turn to look at me for validation and a comforting word of reassurance that
they haven't just committed an unforgivable offense.

Eid always requires an extra effort to keep these
thoughts at bay. These are joyous occasions of celebrating with family and
phone calls wishing good tidings and blessings to loved ones, and the
disconnect, the blatant absence of contacting Grandma cannot be hidden and is
difficult to ignore. And it's a two-sided road, I know how momentous Christmas,
birthdays, Easter, and all the other holidays I celebrated as a child are for
my mother. I know it pains her that we are not part of her celebrations and
moments of happiness as well.

Translating the Trials of Life into Lessons...

Submitting to Allah does require putting Allah's
orders and what He loves above your own desires; in fact, that is jihad
of the nafs (the struggle with yourself) in a nutshell. So, I use these
moments of discomfort and awkwardness, concern and worry to teach my children
about Islam and what is expected of them.

I have told them that the responsibility is on us to
remind Grandma about Allah (and yes, we say "God" when talking to her
so it doesn’t seem like a different deity than the one she believes in and it
doesn't automatically erect her walls of defense) and to always, always make dua
for her. It gives me the chance to remind them that we are responsible for calling
others to Islam, but we are not responsible for their refusal or disbelief. I
have stressed upon them that no matter what it is that we want, it is Allah who
is the Only One to decide and decree a matter and that He Subhana wa ta'ala
is al-Hakim and al-Adl (the Most Wise and Most Just). So, He
alone is the one who guides and makes Muslims.

I have also taught them that Allah is the Owner of the
Hearts, and it is He who puts the love of one person for another in the heart,
and He removes it as He wills. I have also told them about the disbelieving
father of Prophet Ibrahim and the parents of Prophet Muhammad and how they are
in hellfire even though their sons were the Messengers of Allah (peace be upon
them both). I have used this delicate situation also to tell my children that
there is no sadness in Jannah. And if their grandmother were to die upon
disbelief (audhubillah) and if Allah were to bless us with entry into Jannah
(ya Rubb, we ask you for al-Firdaus and to be in the company of your
prophets and the righteous. Ameen), then Allah would remove the love for
Grandma from our hearts just as He has put it in. For if there is no sadness in
Jannah, then how could one love someone and not be saddened knowing that
loved one was being eternally punished in hellfire. It could never be.

Alhumdulillah ala Kuli Hal

.

We thank Allah for every situation. Raising Muslim
children with a grandmother who is non-Muslim is one of the tests many of us
face in this dunya, and being tested is the purpose of this life.

I am blessed and grateful to be amongst those converts
to Islam whose family has not ostracized her or her children, and for that I
say alhumdulillah. Our trials are a chance for reflection, learning, and
growth, and I take advantage of the opportunities that this situation has
opened for me to teach my children about the qualities of Allah and how it is
obligatory for us to hold on to hope and trust in Allah and to never give up in
raising our hands and asking Allah. May Allah accept my efforts and make them
sincere for His sake. Ameen

May Allahu Subhana wa ta'ala guide my mother to
Islam. May He rectify our affairs for us and all of the Muslims. May He, Suhana
wa ta'ala, grant us the good of this life and the good of the
hereafter. Allahumma Ameen.

Author Bio

Irada Ronalder is a writer and editor. She is
also a coffee-lover, an American convert to Islam, mother of 6, and an active
proponent of open and honest introspection as a means to find – and grow from –
the lessons in one’s own life story. She is currently working on her upcoming
book for Muslim women who struggle to find contentment in polygynous marriage,
and her fb group “Embracing
Your Qadr” offers solutions for many of the frustrations these
sisters face.

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About Me

Hello! My name is Weronika and I am a mother of three children from the South West of England. I am a Speech and Language Therapist specialising in bilingualism and autism. My husband is a Turkish Kurd and we are hoping to raise our children to be multilingual. We are a Muslim family and home educate our children. I blog about our multilingual, multicultural journey as well as home educating. I also write about my interests; crafting, cooking and all the wonderfully fun activities I do with my children.